


book of you

by tsuhika



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bookstores, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Teen Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuhika/pseuds/tsuhika
Summary: [akaashi keiji x reader] [bookstore au]the bookstore feels like home, but so does he.or,you trade notes with a faceless stranger, but they end up being much more close to home than you think.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Original Female Character(s), Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	book of you

The bell rings quietly as you push the door open, and suddenly you feel like you’re home.

It’s a small bookstore a little ways away from your school. You’ve been visiting for years now, so you’ve gotten used to the dark red wood facade, the slightly musty scent of old books, and the dim lighting inside.

“Hello.” you greet the old woman behind the counter politely, bowing your head as she smiles.

“Hello, dear! We just got a new shipment in the back, you should take a look! Might be something you like there.”

With another nod, you drag your feet toward the back as instructed, drinking in the sight of all the shelves. Your fingers drag over the spines of the books as you pass, as though trying to extract the stories from within each of the bound pages. Finally arriving at the book of the store, you see that the owner was correct—there’s a variety of new books available, all different genres and sizes.

WIth a quick scan, one book sticks out to you. It’s decently thick, a red spine with gold lettering in a pretty calligraphy font. Your fingers twitch toward it, ready to pull it out and inspect it, when a sudden sound from your phone makes you flinch.

_(1 new message)_

_keiji: Do you want to hang out today? I know you had a rough calc test, maybe we can de-stress together. Just let me know._

You smile down at your screen, appreciating his caring nature. Akaashi is always thinking of you first, has been since you met him, and it’s something you really admire. You type out a quick confirmation before turning back to the shelf and pulling out the book you saw before.

The wine red leather cover is crisscrossed with light scratches, none too deep to do irreversible damage to the novel. If anything, it’s a sign that the book has been well-loved over the years. It’s a poem book, you discover, after leafing through the pages for a bit. Poems spanning topics like life and love, supplemented by small illustrations and notes from those who read the book before you. That’s another thing you like about this store—many of the books feature notes from past readers. It makes you feel like you’re a part of something bigger, forming connections over time when you add your own thoughts as well.

 _Euphoria_ , the cover of the book declares, and you turn to the first page to see a short definition of the word.

_euphoria - a feeling of intense happiness and elation._

You end up leaving the bookstore with that book that day, promising to return it in a week as the owner waves you off with a smile. 

“I think you’ll enjoy that.” she assures you. “It’s one of my favorites.”

That night, you read a few poems from the book, getting lost in the ink on the pages, and reading the added notes. In a fit of slight courage, you decide to leave one of your own.

_I really like this one. I’d like to find a love like this someday. I think it’s something we’re all meant to find._

You leave the note under a poem about young love, neatly written in the margin. You don’t know why, but you suddenly feel compelled to sign it somehow, to leave evidence that it is indeed from you, so you quickly brainstorm a nickname for yourself. Underneath, you sign it with a quick stroke of your pen.

_-star_

* * *

It’s been about two weeks since you returned the book, and you find yourself in the same bookstore again, studying the same bookshelves among the low light. For some reason, your eyes are drawn to the familiar red spine of the book you’d already previously borrowed.

A lingering curiosity wills you to grab the book again, inspecting the same leather cover embossed with the word “euphoria”. _I’ll just take a peek_ , you think. _I just want to see if someone read my notes._

You open the book to the correct page on the first try, the pages falling open to reveal the poem about young love. Directly underneath your own note, in a neat, semi-familiar script, is another.

_That’s an interesting take, star. I think we’re all searching for something. -A_

You don’t know why you’re so surprised that someone else saw it, but it makes you feel a bit warm somehow. The fact that someone is reading the same poems you are and feeling the same things despite living a completely different life rouses a strong interest in your heart.

That day, you leave the bookstore with a wine red book tucked under your arm, and the woman behind the counter gives you a knowing smile.

* * *

It’s a bit colder today as you walk home with Akaashi and Bokuto after their volleyball practice. Bokuto is doing a balancing act on the short stone wall next to the sidewalk as Akaashi scolds him, and you smile to yourself at their antics. When Akaashi is finally able to convince the ace back onto the walkway, he notices the way you shiver slightly from the cold.

Wordlessly, he settles his jacket over your shoulders. “You shouldn’t be walking without a jacket, [Name].” he chides. “You could get sick.”

After apologizing profusely, you slide your arms through the warm sleeves as a shield against the wind. Bokuto is still ranting about his day, asking you what you thought of today’s lunch options, and you reply with a laugh.

Instinctively, your hands sink into the deep pockets of Akaashi’s jacket, fingertips suddenly meeting the cool metal of a ballpoint pen. 

“Keiji, why is there a pen in your volleyball jacket?” you chuckle, brandishing the writing utensil at him. “This jacket is white! Imagine if it leaked!”

Akaashi frowns at the thought, taking the pen from your hand. His fingers brush yours when he takes it, and wisps of his shocking warmth run up your arm, spreading through your chest. Your flustered state shows on your face and Bokuto smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively when Akaashi looks away.

He’s known about your crush on his best friend for months now, far too observant for his own good when it comes to the slight hints you’ve dropped. The only problem is that Akaashi doesn’t seem to notice.

The three of you chat happily as you make your way home, and your heart skips a beat whenever your shoulder or hand brushes against Akaashi’s. It’s a little embarrassing, how easily he can fluster you.

“[Name], where are ya going? Your house is this way!” Bokuto yells, pointing across the street. Akaashi quietly reminds him not to yell in public before turning to you as well, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“Ah, I’m just stopping by the store before I go home!” you explain, and Bokuto shrugs before continuing down the sidewalk.

“Alright, see you tomorrow!” he calls over his shoulder. Akaashi hovers for a moment, still looking at you.

“Do you want me to come with you? It’s starting to get a little dark.” he offers, pointing up at the sky. There’s a layer of concern in his eyes, and you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay! It’ll be quick.” you soothe, and he frowns but doesn’t pry more. The two of you exchange a short goodbyes before Akaashi jogs after Bokuto’s faraway form, cringing when his friend screams his name.

* * *

It becomes routine from there. Every other week, you pick up the book from the store on the corner, read the notes that A left for you, and write a few of your own. It’s almost magical, the excitement you feel every time you see a new note, pulling out your own pen to reply.

Despite your better judgment, you begin to feel a tender connection with A. It’s ridiculous, you know. You don’t know A personally at all, know little about them besides that they read the same book that you do.

Yet, something about them feels undoubtedly familiar.

* * *

_Do you like this poem? I think it’s a little cheesy for my taste. -A_

_I think the best part about it is that it’s cheesy. -star_

_This illustration is really pretty. -star_

_It is. It gives me a really pleasant feeling. -A_

_This poem is so cute! I wish I could find love like this. -star_

_I’m sure you’ll find it soon. Whoever you find it with is very lucky. -A_

* * *

“I still don’t get why you keep borrowing that book.” Bokuto drawls, stretching his arms over his head languidly. There’s a confused pout on his face as he thinks back to his friend’s repeated behavior. “It seems like you’ve read it a million times already.”

Your ears perk up at Bokuto’s sudden interjection, glancing at the boy beside you to gauge his reaction as you continue walking home.

Akaashi tenses up, posture stiffening as his shoe drags on the street just a bit _too_ hard. Your eyebrows raise in concern—it’s not like him to be fazed so easily.

“It’s just a very good read.” he answers simply, albeit tightly.

“But you keep writing in it too! You told me I shouldn’t do that, so I don’t see why you get to.” Bokuto whines, kicking a rock out of his path.

_Writing in it?_

“Wh-what book is it?” you ask, almost too afraid to hear the answer. There’s a premonition, a tingle scraping up your spine that tells you your suspicions are correct, but you have to _hear_ it from him to know.

_There’s no way. The chances are slim to none._

_There’s no way that A is Akaashi._

When he confirms your fear, a single utterance of the word “euphoria”, you can’t bite back the shocked gasp that erupts from your dry throat.

You force a detached expression onto your face, quickly turning away from the boys’ prying eyes. “Sounds cool.” you reply energetically, but you don’t miss the way Akaashi’s stare is fixated on you. The swirling panic rising up your throat makes you gulp hard, the bob of your throat drawing his eye.

“Are you alright, [Name]?”

You splutter out an excuse, something about feeling a bit tired from school, and Bokuto accepts it easily enough, marching ahead in front of you and Akaashi, still rambling. Akaashi hangs back, walking quietly beside you as he reaches into his bag.

When he pulls the book out, half of the red cover sticking out, you feel like you’re going to vomit.

“Have you ever seen this book before?” he asks, eyes averted. You note the light blush on the apples of his cheeks, and a glimmer of hope rises in your chest that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you.

But that’s impossible.

You imagine the disappointment when he finds out that _star_ is you, his soft smile melting off his face, dropping to the ground like the last leaves of autumn. He surely believes that the person writing back to him is someone far more interesting than you, and he’s right. _Star_ isn’t you, it’s a version of you that exists only in that book.

“No.” you reply, and Akaashi’s shoulders sink. “I’ve never seen it before.”

* * *

Standing in the same store, under the same light, in front of the same shelf as always, there’s a tremor in your fingertips.

You’re even more nervous about returning the book this time, not only because you know Akaashi is A, but because of what you’ve written in it. Rain beats down outside, drenching the windows, and you vaguely decide to get this over with before the storm gets too rough.

Eyes scanning the lines of books, you gently ease a space on the shelf, sliding your book inside. You want to make this quick, be in and out as fast as possible-

“I knew it.”

Your blood runs cold at the familiar voice, tentative hand recoiling from the spine of the book like you’ve been burned. Your reaction alone is enough evidence that you’ve been caught in the act.

Akaashi.

The two of you just stare at each other for a few moments, frozen in surprise and betrayal. For all of the situations you’ve imagined where Akaashi finds out, you hadn’t prepared yourself for the hurt in his eyes as he looks at you. His hair is dripping from the rain, eyes dull and fingers tight around the strap of his bag. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and heads for the exit.

“Keiji!” you gasp, snatching the book from the shelf and following him.

The owner watches the two of you with wide eyes, mouth open like she wants to protest, but Akaashi is out the door before she can say anything. The bell rings harshly as he steps into the pouring rain, and you fumble for your umbrella, popping it open to follow him.

A moment too late, you remember that opening an umbrella indoors is bad luck, and you don’t have much luck to spare right now.

“Keiji, wait, please-” you call, apologies spilling from your lips desperately. They’re useless, you know, sinking to the ground amongst the falling raindrops.

Akaashi stops abruptly, turning to face you with a hard expression.

“I don’t understand why you would lie to me.”

You visibly shrink under the weight of his cold stare, hugging the book to your chest tightly. Akaashi never looks at you like this; he’s always smiling at you, all wide grins and soft stares. Who is looking at you now?

“Did you think it was funny to toy with me? Was it a joke to you?” he spits, and you shake your head rapidly.

“Of course not, I lov-”

“I should’ve known. You were never serious about me.” he interrupts, and you choke painfully.

In a last-ditch effort, you shove the book into his hands, and he glares at you. “What are you doing?”

Your tongue feels too thick and heavy, a lump rising in your throat that prevents you from explaining. “I’m sorry.” you gasp weakly, and Akaashi sighs, turning around and walking away.

All you can do is watch as he gets further and further, vision blurred by the falling rain and the tears in your eyes.

* * *

Akaashi bursts into his bedroom, unable to stop the angry, humiliated tears.

He’d walked home in the rain, barely noticing the liquid pelting his skin, instead too focused on thoughts of you.

He realizes he’s still holding the book in his hands, running the leather under his fingers distractedly. He’s usually not like this. You’d be hard-pressed to find many moments where he lost it, surrendered himself to the emotions pressing at the barriers of his mind, yet here he is.

_Why had you lied to him? Why wouldn’t you just tell him? Is it because you didn’t like him back?_

Winding up, he whips the book onto his bed in frustration, lip curled into a snarl. It bounces twice on his blankets, flipping open and face-down before sitting at rest. Long fingers grip at his hair, teeth gritted at how much the situation has spiraled because of a single damn book.

He’d known it was you from the start. 

There was no way he wouldn’t recognize your handwriting, the curl of your p’s and the crosses of your t’s, and maybe it was cowardly of him, but he thought hiding behind the pages would make it easier.

With a sigh, he collapses onto his bed, picking up the book. He’s about to close it, the two covers inches away from meeting, until he sees a new note on the page. He’s sure he’s never seen it before, because the words on the page make his heart stop.

_I think I’m in love with you._

Air catches in his throat, a muted gasp escaping him as he reads the words over and over.

_I think I’m in love with you._

_I think I’m in love with you._

_I think I’m in love with you._

And at the bottom of the page, nestled right in the page numbered corner:

_From, [Name]_

He moves like he’s in a dream, barely able to rip his eyes away from the page. Suddenly, he’s reaching for a pen on his desk, eyes still on your writing, clicking it once. And then, he writes.

It’s not rushed; the ink flows smoothly over the page, pen dancing and displaying what he’s been thinking all along. He feels a strange calm, writing this to you. It’s his sincerest apology and his deepest feelings all in one.

Of course, he doubts you will ever actually _read_ it, considering how you will likely never borrow the book again, but if he can just get his thoughts on the page, perhaps that will be enough.

The message is longer than he expected, and at the end of it all, he signs it as simply as he can.

_Love, Keiji_

* * *

The next time you step into the bookstore, the bell tinkles overhead as it always has, and when you turn to greet the owner, she’s holding something out to you. Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to remember if you had placed a book on hold, but she shakes her head.

“This is a…special order.” she affirms, and as you approach her, you recognize the cover immediately. There’s a light blue sticky note pressed on the front, your name written in a familiar script.

Akaashi’s handwriting.

“You should keep it. He told me to give it to you if you ever came in again.” she giggles, pulling a brown paper bag out from under the counter. She packs the book inside with careful hands, lovingly stroking the cover before sealing it away. “I think you’ll find that it’s important this time.”

You accept the bag from her with shaky hands, blankly thanking her and leaving the store in a dazed confusion. _Akaashi told her to give you the book? After you’d lied to him?_

Your entire walk home is plagued by wandering thoughts, buzzing nervousness at what Akaashi has written inside for you. Even when you reach your house, the book feels like it is burning expectantly under your fingers, and you rush toward the door so you can settle down and read it.

Until you see Akaashi sitting on your front porch. 

He stands up when he sees you, brushing off his pants and maneuvering between you and the front door.

“Keiji!” you gasp, shoving the book into your bag. “What are you doing here?”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I’m in love with you, [Name].” he blurts out, and your eyes widen in surprise. 

“W-wait, Keiji-”

“I’m in love with you, I’ve loved you since I met you probably. Or maybe when I watched you and Bokuto have that eating contest, or maybe all those days we walked home together, or maybe when-”

“Keiji!” you try again, hands planting firmly on his shoulders and interrupting his frenzied speech. He’s running out of breath, lungs constricting painfully, but it’s like he can’t stop now that he’s started. It’s completely unlike how he felt when writing that note to you; while that was like a calm pond, this is like rushing river water.

He inhales once, a brief gasp of air, and you can feel his shoulder rise under your fingertips. “[Name].” he begins, softer and slower this time. “I’m in love with you. I was stupid for walking out on you like that. I know you must be upset with me, but I’m sorry.”

He finally allows himself a second of rest, meeting your eyes expectantly as he awaits your answer. You can barely think, the influx of information and confession making your brain feel fuzzy, but there’s one thing you do know.

Tenderly, your hands slide from Akaashi’s shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them gently as you smile.

“Keiji.” you breathe, and his face flushes at your sudden affection. “I love you too.”

That night, sitting on your porch with Akaashi as he reads his note to you, you think you begin to understand what _euphoria_ really means.

* * *

The heat of the game simmers on Akaashi’s skin as he walks off the court, toweling off his neck with Bokuto nearby. It had been another win, as expected, but he’s too tired to think about it much. Bokuto is as excited as always, rattling off his favorite moments of the match until he pauses mid sentence in wide-eyed awe. Suddenly, he points into the audience, which is slowly filtering out of the gym after the end of the game.

“Akaashi, that girl is wearing your jacket!”

At his friend’s words, Akaashi whips around, scanning the crowd determinedly and searching for the familiar face. He smiles when he finds it.

“…Bokuto, that’s my girlfriend.”

At the sound of his voice, you turn, and Bokuto’s jaw drops when he sees your face.

“[Name]?!”

You jog up to the two boys, greeting Bokuto first, who is still frozen in muted shock. He mumbles something about needing air before waddling off, disappearing into the passing crowd. Next, you turn to Akaashi, holding a very familiar book in your hands.

“Good game.” you say, smiling lightly. “Not bad.”

He laughs, adjusting the collar of his jacket around your neck. “Thanks. I like your jacket. Did you leave a new note?”

You nod, and one of your hands reaches into your pocket, pulling out a black ballpoint pen and showing it to him with a smirk.

“You shouldn’t keep pens in here, Keiji.” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck as he takes the book from you. “They could leak.”

He kisses your hair gently, letting the surrounding noise fade away. Eyes fluttering closed, he lets his forehead rest against yours as he smiles. “I need them to write to someone very special.” he murmurs. “But I’ll keep that in mind for next time, star.”


End file.
